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The older I get, the less I feel the need to explain myself. I just don’t have time for that anymore. Take it or leave it, that’s the truth. That’s why, over the last year or so, I have taken to responding to things that confuse, anger or upset me with one simple phrase: “No.” Yep, no. It explains so much on its own, don’t you agree? I do. That’s why, for my first blog post in nine ding, dang months, I will list the things that I feel……no………just,no, about. No explanations, just, no. Here we go, in no particular order.

Geese. No.

Duck Dynasty. No

The band, Florida/Georgia Line. No.

Decaf coffee. No.

Talking, non-stop, about how busy you are. No.

Disney. No.

Anne Hathaway. No.

Coughs. No.

High rise shorts. No.

Goat cheese. No.

Shopping with my highly opinionated daughter. No.

Not returning my texts. No.

Having to check my voicemail. No.

Snakes. No.

Peas. No.

When people say, “Where’s that at?”. No.

Using the wrong form of “your” . No.

Hair in the drain. No.

BJ’s (the store, people). No.

Wal-Mart. No.

I believe that covers it. Take my word for it, it’s liberating to not have to explain yourself. Just say, no.

The day was August 26th, 2013. It was the first day of school for all four of my little monsters. I was broken after almost 3 months of them being at home and me not having a single linear thought in my head in just as much time. I hadn’t slept well the night before because I was tossing and turning thinking about my oldest child starting middle school. I was also a bit emotional because once again, the start of school reminds me that my children are growing and changing quickly. What I’m trying to convey, dear readers, is that it was absolutely NOT the day to have the sex talk with my child. Especially not the child with whom I had the talk. Not. At. All.

I had been through “the talk” last summer with my daughter. It wasn’t something that I welcomed by any means, but my daughter is a good listener and I knew that she would take it all in stride. Now, my oldest son? Out of all my children, he is the one I feared telling the most. To describe him as inquisitive would be a massive understatement. The kid gives us the third degree about everything. He is constantly looking up words because not only does he need definitions he needs to know everything about the word, origin and all. It’s the same with facts. He wants facts and wants evidence to support the facts. He is not a child who will accept the phrase, “Just because.” No sir. He is smart as a whip but he is exhausting.

Knowing this about my son, I have dreaded having the “talk” with him for some time. He started asking about it this past summer. I was a chicken and blew him off several times because I just couldn’t face what was ahead of me. I didn’t think I had it in me to answer all of his questions openly and honestly. You know what? I was right in being afraid. So, here is the story of my oldest son learning about the birds and the bees……..Lord help me.

As I mentioned before, it was the first day of school. The kids were all home and happy after what was a good first day. My two youngest sons went with my husband to the pool and I was left with the two oldest kids, my daughter and son. My daughter wanted to make chocolate chip cookies for a back to school treat and asked if I could take her to the grocery store to buy the ingredients. My son came along for the ride. We had a good time talking and laughing about school, their teachers and their friends. We started discussing school holidays and when they had school breaks. My son asked if our friends, the Scotts (hee, hee) would be joining us for Thanksgiving dinner this year. I explained that of course they were welcome but Mrs. Scott was due to have a baby around that time so it may not work out. Simple enough…….or so I thought.

It was quiet as we pulled into the garage. I got out of the car and opened the trunk to get the groceries. My son appeared out of nowhere and asked, ” Mom, does sex have something to do with babies?” I almost dropped the milk I was carrying. My daughter grabbed a bag and as she walked away called over her shoulder, “Will you just have the sex talk with him already?” My son put his hands on my shoulders, looked me dead in the eyes and said, ” You have been telling me we would have the talk all summer. I am not leaving the garage until you tell me how babies are made.” I look up to see my daughter right behind us, just shaking her head in disgust, ” Really mom, you just need to get it over with.” She is a pain in the ass.

I looked at my son, took a deep breath and replied, ” Alright. Put the groceries away and meet me in the living room.” He yelled, “Yes!” My daughter said, in the bored way that only an 11-year-old girl can really master, “It’s about time, don’t you think?” One sex talk and now she’s the parenting expert.

I poured myself a drink ( just iced tea mind you, but I contemplated a glass of wine) and made myself comfortable on the couch. My son sat on the chair opposite me, literally on the edge of his seat. I took a deep breath and began.

Me: ” When a man and a woman love each other very much and are committed to each other they may want to have a family. So they have sex to make a baby.”

Coop: “So, only married people have sex and babies? What about that girl up the street who has that baby? She lives with her mom and she’s not married.”

Me: ” Um, yes, but it’s better to be mature and um, in a committed relationship before, you know, making a baby.”

Coop: ” You mean have sex? Do you make a baby every time you have sex? Is that only what sex is for?”

Sweet Jesus, I was already uncomfortable and unprepared and it wasn’t even 5 freaking minutes into the discussion.

Me: ” Can you just let me finish before you ask anymore questions? Save them for the end, okay?” I hoped he would forget most of them.

Coop:” Okay. So what is sex?”

Me: ” Well, I told you when two people love each oth..”

Coop, cutting me off: ” Yeah, I know but what IS it?”

Me: Why was I doing this alone? Where in the hell was my husband? ” Okay, so sex is..” I was cut off by my daughter yelling from the other room, ” It’s when a man puts his penis in a woman’s vagina!” I was seriously going to ground that child for life.

Coop, Wide eyes looking at me: ” What??? Is that true??”

Me, nodding my head: ” Well, yes, but..”

Coop, laughing uncontrollably: ” AHAHAHAHAHAHA!! No way! Really??”

Me, yelling over my shoulder: ” Hey! You let me have the talk with your brother! Knock it off!” I heard giggling from the kitchen.

Caroline: ” Okay, I was just helping.”

Me, trying to regain some control: “Yes, that’s what sex is and how a man and woman make a baby. See, the man’s sperm meets with a woman’s egg and when the timing is right that makes a baby.”

Coop: ” How does the sperm come out?”

Me, well shit: ” Well, a man, he….um…..he…..see, what happens is..” Cut off again by the flipping sex ed teacher in the kitchen.

Caroline: ” He emasculates. That’s when the sperm comes out of the penis.” WHAT???? This was rapidly going downhill.

Me: ” Well, no it’s not. It’s a bit more complicated than that. It’s……it’s when….well, I…maybe we should wait until your dad gets home for this part?”

Coop: “Where do you have sex?”

Me: “Where? Umm….”

Caroline: ” On the bathroom floor.” Okay, that did it! Obviously, I had failed big time when I had the talk with her.

Me: ” What in the world are you talking about, Caroline? No Coop, it doesn’t happen on the bathroom floor. Good grief. It usually happens in a bed.”

Caroline: ” Oh, I thought it was on bathroom floor. Huh.” I guess that’s what happens when they don’t ask questions, they just make crap up.

Coop: ” So where did you and Dad make me?” Wait, did he just ask about me and his dad? Oh, this was going very badly.

Me: ” Coop, I think maybe we should wait for your Dad…really.” My head started pounding.

Coop: ” How do you do it? Do you lay down? Does a man get on top of a woman, like this?” He climbed on the coffee table and demonstrated. Jesus, Mary and Joseph (as my mom would say) I had to make this stop. ” Was Dad on top of you?” Why was he talking about me and his father????

Caroline: ” Ewww, I don’t want to know.” Finally, she had a good point.

Coop: ” Are you naked when you have sex? Were you and Dad naked?” Kill me now. Just kill me. This was a nightmare, an absolute nightmare.

Me: ” Umm, yes people are usually naked.”

Coop: ” Does the butt have anything to do with it?”

Me: For the love of God, “Umm, no.” Please, no more questions.

Coop: ” Do boobs have anything to do with it?”

Me: “No.”

Coop: ” How does the penis get in the woman? It seems like that would be difficult to do.” Sigh, why had I agreed to this?

Caroline: ” During our reproduction unit last year, Mrs. B said that when a man is attracted to a woman, his penis gets hard.” Really, why was I even there? She could have just had the whole talk herself.

Caroline: ” Also, I heard that men think about sex every 7 seconds.” She smiled at me like she was helping or something.

Coop: ” Does Dad think about sex every 7 seconds?” Probably like, every 3 seconds, wait! I had to get this whole thing back on track.

Me: ” Cooper, making babies is a very special thing that happens between a man and a woman that love each other. It’s a miracle. I think there are some questions that you should ask your dad because he’s a guy and he can explain some things better than I can.” Please, please accept that answer……PLEASE!

Coop: ” You and Dad had sex four times? How long does it take for a baby to grow inside a woman and be ready to come out?”

Me: ” Pregnancy is about nine months.”

Coop: ” So, the last time you and Dad had sex (why did he keep bringing it back to us????) was about 9 months before Blake was born? So, about 5 years ago? That was the last time?”

Me: ” Uh……yes.” Don’t judge me.

Coop: ” Okaaaay…….so the Scotts had sex recently?”

Me: ” Yep, I guess so.” As long as he wasn’t asking anymore questions about me and his father, I would throw the ding dang Scotts under the bus.

Coop: ” How long has Caroline known about this?”

Me: ” We told her last summer.”

Coop: ” Does G (his buddy) know?”

Me: “Yes.”

Coop: ” Does C (another buddy) know?”

Me: ” Yes.”

Coop, after thinking for a bit: ” Will I want to have sex?”

Me: ” Yes. Someday.”

Coop: ” Does Dad still want to have sex with you even though you aren’t having anymore babies?” I think I passed out for a bit.

Me: ” Cooper, I am not going to discuss me and your Dad with you.”

Coop: ” Okay…..can I have ice cream?” Now, that was a question I could answer.

Coop left the room and went outside to play baseball. Caroline was still sitting in the room with me. She smiled at me and said, ” Well, I’m glad that’s over with. Aren’t you?” Yes, yes I am. Two down, two to go……

Well, it’s December, the month that I was born. As I have gotten older, I have this love/dread thing with this month. On one hand, I love Christmas time and I look forward to it each year. On the other hand, it means I will be one year older…..sigh.

This whole getting older thing didn’t really bother me until about three years ago. After I had my fourth child and it dawned on me, that time of my life, the “having babies” part, was over. I suddenly felt very old and very wistful. I waited my whole life to have babies and it was over, in what seems like the blink of an eye. Now, that baby is 3 years old, I have a kindergartener , third and fifth grader and I’m left wondering how it all went so fast. I find myself saying that a lot-“It goes so fast.” I hate it when people say that to me, but it’s the truth.

My children are growing so quickly and I am feeling “my age” more than I used to. I am trying to embrace getting older. No really, I am, but it’s ding dang difficult when I am reminded I am no longer the Spring chicken I used to be. There are many things the signify my getting older and I’ve jotted down a few……

When I had my first child, I was always the “young mom”. Honestly, by 5 or more years. Now, with my youngest son, I’m one of the older moms. I was waiting outside my son’s preschool classroom to pick him up. There was a group of 5 or so moms, all with their baby slings and strollers and they were all freaking out because their 29th or 30th birthdays were approaching. It hit me, that was almost 7 years ago for me!!! I felt sick to my stomach.

If I have a couple of bad nights of sleep, it SHOWS. I look like death. The dark circles under my eyes turn black and puffy, the fine lines around my eyes are more pronounced, and my skin loses all color. No more going a week and only sleeping 3 hours a night. That could damn near kill me.

My dad. He can never remember how old I am. The last couple of years, when he calls to say happy birthday he asks ” Now, how old are you again?” When I tell him he always says ” My God! Are you really? You’re getting up there, aren’t you?” Thanks Dad.

When I go shopping in certain stores the music is so loud I can’t even concentrate on what I’m shopping for. Also, the stores are so dark. What are they hiding?

There are things that used to seem way too far off to worry about, but now they aren’t so far off. In fact, they are rapidly approaching. Things like getting a mammogram, getting glasses (my eyes aren’t what they once were), having a colonoscopy and Lord help me, menopause. Ugh!

I have moved into the 35-44 age bracket.

I have always had a somewhat bad mouth but lately I find myself cringing at the use of the F-word and vulgarity in general. I was reading a blog post someone put up on FB and every other word was an F-bomb. I thought to myself ” Now, that is just gratuitous.” Maybe that’s more of a sign of maturity?

I like Richard Marx and other music on the soft rock channel. Deal with it.

When I indulge in more than 1 cocktail, glass of wine or beer the next 2 to 3 days are a recovery period. Gone are the days when I could practically finish a bottle of vino myself. My head hurts just thinking about that.

I get heartburn if I eat too late at night.

The kids that I used to baby-sit are now in college or graduated from college.

I say things like ” Kids nowadays have no respect for their elders.” Nowadays? Elders? I also say ” Back in my day.” when I tell my kids about when I was a kid.

When I was younger, I would go to the beach and work on the perfect tan. Now, I wear a wide-brimmed hat and I lather up with SPF 50. I don’t check for tan lines at the end of a day in the sun. I check for wrinkles and age spots.

All the actresses “nowadays” are about 19 years old with 40-year-old leading men. That annoys me.

I drive a minivan………and I like it.

My 20th high school reunion is less than 2 years away. What!?

When I go to a doctor who is younger than me, it makes me uneasy. I think, “This “boy” can’t possibly be qualified to write a prescription for me.” I always feel like I need to ask to speak with a “grown up.”

When I see Zac Efron without a shirt, I think ” DING DANG!” and that makes me feel kind of pervy.

I don’t know why this makes me feel old but it does: I own and actually sometimes wear a tankini.

I used to think ” I will NEVER have any kind of “work” done. I will age gracefully and NATURALLY.” That’s easy to say when you’re 28 and all hell hasn’t broken loose . Now I think, “MEH, what could it hurt?”

I don’t mean to sound so gloomy about getting older. I truly know that I am blessed to have lived 36 years and I thank God every morning I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. I just don’t deal with change well. I don’t even like to change sides of the bed. I will embrace all of the change though, for my children. I will also “embrace” Botox, a good eye cream and push-up bras. Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday to me.

Last week my three-year old, Blake and I were at Wal-Mart ( I know, I know, but I really needed taco shells). I was using the self check out and Blake was looking at all the useless crap they put by the registers. He brought over a lollipop/airplane thing and asked me if he could get it. Now, I have never once let my children get any of these items, yet they ask each time they are with me at the store. I said no, and turned back around to check out my groceries. I felt something hit my leg and I turned around to see my usually sweet and funny three-year old with his little hands on his little hips and his face all scrunched up. He started jumping up and down like he was Rumpelstiltskin and yelling ” YES! MY WANT THAT–NOW!!!!!!” I was in shock because although he is mischievous and crazy, he is not bratty and is not one to throw fits when told “No.” He was yelling ” YESYESYESYES!” over and over again. I finished paying for my items and grabbed his little hand and forcefully “escorted” him to the car. I gave him a good talking to and got into the car to go home. He was asleep not 5 minutes later. I looked at his sweet little sleeping face and was reminded of all the fits that my other children have thrown over the years. Coincidentally, most of them have been at Wal-Mart or Target. Go figure.

My children in general, are not big public temper tantrum throwers. Well, except for my 5 year-old, Brady. His tantrums were epic. The kind that left me shaking and sweating and wondering if I should find a local priest to stop by our house for a little exorcism. Thankfully, he grew out of those tantrums and my other kids only threw a couple that were monumental.

When my oldest son, Cooper was about 20 months old, I took him to Wal-Mart with me to go Christmas shopping while my daughter was in preschool. Now, I know you’re thinking that was a bad idea, but let me explain. When his sister was little, I did all my Christmas shopping for her while she was right there in the cart. I just gave her a book to look at and a snack and she was good to go. She never fussed and was always very easy. Well, Cooper was NOTHING like his sister.

We turned onto the toy aisle and things got real bad, real quick. He was strapped into the cart and he was looking from right to left very quickly. He started to pull at the buckle and yell ” Out! I want to get out!” He was pointing at any and every toy saying ” I want! I want!” The tears came next, followed by pulling his own hair and screaming. I had never seen anything like it. ” I want it mama! I want it mama!” He wasn’t even pointing at anything in particular. He started bucking up and down. If he had been an adult, a 5150 hold would have been placed on him immediately. It was ridiculous. I got out of there as fast as I could, leaving a store full of staring people. Needless to say, I did the rest of my Christmas shopping while he was at home with my husband.

About a year or so later, my sister was visiting us and she wanted to go to Target one afternoon. I was pregnant with my third child and my daughter was 4 and son was 2. We rolled into Target and decided to get the kids an Icee, with the hope that would keep them busy so my sister and I could shop. I now think that those things actually make my children monsters, due to all the dye and sugar in them, but I digress. So we were walking along and browsing, the kids followed behind us drinking their Icees. We walked past a toy display and my daughter asked if they could get whatever it was and I said no. Well, that was the beginning of epic fit number two. She started whining and asking why she couldn’t get the toy. Then my son joined in, just for the hell of it. My sister and I were doing our best to ignore them. Somewhere along the way, my son started running with the Icee in his hand. I turned and told him to slow down because he could fall. Two minutes later, I heard a crash and a cry. Sure enough, he had fallen down and his Icee was spilled everywhere. Before I could stop her, my daughter tripped over her brother. Her Icee flew out of her hands and landed with a splat right next to her brother’s. Well, they started to have total and complete meltdowns. The screaming began, ” MY ICEE! I DROPPED MY ICEE! I WANT MY ICEE!” The scene was awful: red Icee all over the floor and two kids lying down next to it, kicking and screaming. I looked at my sister who was laughing so hard, tears were rolling down her cheeks. I wasn’t mad because we both suffer from “nervous laughter.” The more inappropriate it is to laugh, the harder we laugh. So of course, I start laughing. I’m sure it was quite a sight to behold.

I was trying to get the two of them to stand up and I slipped in the damn red liquid and fell down next to them. That started them crying harder. My sister was hysterically laughing at this point. Then, the security guard came over and asked if we needed help. I thanked him, but said that we were fine. In retrospect, I should have accepted his offer .

Somehow, we managed to make it out of the store. I was dragging both of them out of their by their hands. They kept doing the ” dead weight drop” move. The one where they let their bodies go limp and drop to the ground. My sister (still laughing) picked up one and I picked up the other and we started to the car. There was a cart in my way and I pushed it too hard. I watched as it rolled right out into the parking lot, almost hitting a car that was driving towards us. I couldn’t do anything about it though because I was carrying my flailing son.

We finally made it to the car and somehow, put them in their car seats. My sister and I both sat down in the front seat, looked at each other………..and started to laugh.

The next temper tantrum also took place at Target. This time, I had all four kids with me. I try to avoid Target with kids, especially on a Saturday afternoon, by myself, but I needed to get a gift for a party that my oldest son was attending that day. My husband was out-of-town, so I had to suck it up and go with the kids. Before we went in, I had a talk with Brady,who was three at this point. He had a problem with Target and toys and he knew it. I kneeled down next to him, looked in his eyes and said ” Okay buddy, no asking for toys. We are here to get something for one of Coop’s friends, not you. Do you understand?” He nodded his head, closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths, ” Yes, mama. I can do it.” I felt confident that things would be alright so I buckled my 8 month old into the stroller and we were off.

We were browsing the toy aisles and I could see that Brady was barely holding it together. He kept looking away from the super hero toys, saying ” I won’t ask for anything.” Over and over. Coop picked out a gift in a relatively short time and we headed to the check out. I thought that all was well until we passed the dollar section and Brady spied his downfall……..rubber ducks. Tons of them. Great, I knew we were screwed. He turned to me and pleaded with his big blue eyes, ” Mama, can I please get just one duck? Please, please, please? Just one? It’s in the dollar section. Just one?” I sighed and said “Brady, come on. Do you remember what we talked about? We are not buying anything else today.” His eyes started to well up with tears and he hugged the duck close to him. ” Yes, I love him . I want it. YES!” My other kids knew that things were going to get ugly, so my daughter took the stroller to the register and Coop followed.

“Come on Brady, let’s go.” He started full on crying and hyperventilating. ” No! I want a duck! Yes! Please mommy, please.” So I pulled him over to the register where he sat down and began screaming ” I. WANT. THE. DUCK!!!” He had the duck in a death grip in his hands. I tried to pull it away but I had no luck….with the duck .

At this point the other kids were so embarrassed that they moved away like they didn’t know us. Brady was laying in the check-out line, screaming, crying and writhing around. I decided to focus on paying for the toy I had. After the toy was paid for, I bent down and picked up my spazz of a child, which was not easy-that kid is built like a line-backer. The poor cashier looked very scared at this display. She looked at me and asked me if I needed a gift receipt. ” Uh, I think we’ll take our chances, but thanks.” I yanked my bag away from her with one hand while trying to hold Brady with the other. As we were rushing out of there, my daughter said ” Mom! He’s still holding the duck.” Sure enough, he still had the ding dang duck in his little hands. I put him down and tried to pull the duck away . He kept screeching ” NO NO NO! I LOOOOOVVVVEEEE THE DUCK!!!!!!” I finally got it away from him and he started jumping up trying to grab it out of my hands. I looked at him and at the duck and knew we had to get out of there FAST, so I made a swift decision………I threw the duck over towards the dollar section where it came from. I picked Brady up and turned around to my stunned older kids and said “GO!” We hot footed it out of there in record time.

I’m happy to report that after the “duck incident”, Brady never had another meltdown in a store. Well, maybe a couple, but never one that epic. The kids still reminisce about the time “Mom chucked the duck” at Target. It took me a couple of days to recover from that one and I still wonder if I hit some unsuspecting Target customer with a flying duck.

In short, temper tantrums are a part of childhood. I feel lucky that my children have never made them a habit and I feel like I have earned another “badge of parenthood” for surviving the ones that they have had. I still feel bad about the duck though……..

My kids are horrible liars. Really, they try to follow through with a lie, but they always break at the last-minute. Their conscience takes over and the truth comes tumbling out quickly and usually with a few tears.

Now, I am not saying this is a bad thing and I’m not saying that they never lie or will never lie in the future. They are kids and they are growing and learning and they are going to make a few mistakes along the way. I don’t want them to lie but sometimes their brutal honesty can also be annoying.

I make a lunch for the three older kids to take to school everyday. They still have not clued in ,not even my 10-year-old daughter, that they could throw away everything at school and I would never know they didn’t eat their carrots or apple or all of their sandwich. They come home and empty their lunch boxes and go over every last detail of what they ate and why. While I appreciate the honesty, there are a million and one things to do in the afternoon and discussing lunch just adds to the work.

My 5-year-old son is especially truthful. If he and his 3-year-old brother get into a fight, he will be the first one to come downstairs and say, “I punched him in the back because he took my toy. Then, I called him a Dumbo.” Okay, now go work it out and let me make dinner. He will come home from a friend’s house and say ” So and so wanted to take cookies up to his room but I said we shouldn’t and then I told his mom.” Oh, I’m sure his friend and friend’s mom LOVED that. That’s not annoying at all.

My daughter is the same. She will be snotty or talk back, whatever, and we will send her to her room. When she comes out to apologize she will come to me and say ” I wrote down that you and dad are jerks and that I don’t like you. I was just mad and I’m sorry.” Sigh, that’s why she has a journal, to write down her feelings and we don’t have to see it! She is allowed to read before bed at night and we tell her what time she needs to turn out her light. Now, we are usually downstairs watching TV and she is upstairs in her room. We would never know if she read for an extra 10 minutes, but she will come downstairs to tell us she read until 8:06 when we told her to stop at 8. Good grief!

My three-year old son is too young to lie or worry about his lying, but I will say, he OWNS all the crazy crap he does. For instance, I will see a huge dent in the wall and ask who did it. He will come running in, look at wall and with pride say ” My did that!” Or toothpaste will be all over the counter and he will say ” I fezeed(squeezed) the WHOLE thing out by myfelf (myself)! My like blue fo(so) much!” No fear whatsoever.

Now we come to my 8-year-old son. Oh boy, this kid is a thinker. I mean he thinks waaaay too much. He is very sensitive and struggles with doing the right thing and just being an 8-year-old boy. Bless his heart, he will try to lie but it will eat away at him until he breaks. He has a reading record to fill out for class everyday and he has to write down the EXACT time he spent reading. It can’t be a minute off or that bothers him. He has to read for 80 minutes a week and he usually reads for 80 minutes a day. I want to tell him “Oh for God sake, just fill it out on Thursday night! You’re good.” But my kid is obviously a more honest person than I am.

This past spring, we had a crazy a sports schedule. Different kids had to be at different places at different times. It was brutal, as usual. One night, the day after my husband’s birthday, 2 of my boys had baseball practice. I took my five-year old to his practice. My mother was visiting so she came along as well as my daughter. My 8-year-old had practice later so he stayed home with my husband and my three-year old son. We had to hurry through dinner and I had to leave without cleaning the kitchen, which KILLS me. I asked my husband to have it cleaned when I got back and he agreed. I knew he would make the kids do it.

My five-year old finished practice and we headed home. When we pulled into the driveway, my husband was sitting outside, shooting the breeze with the neighbors, as usual. He looked at me and waved and I thought to myself, ” If that kitchen is still a mess, I’m going to kill him.” I waved to my neighbors and to him and asked through clenched teeth, “Did you get to the kitchen?” He smiled and answered ” Coop’s doing it.” It’s a good thing the neighbors were there because I would have flicked him off otherwise.

I walked in the kitchen door and my 8-year-old was at the sink with his back to me. My eyes went straight to my husband’s birthday cake on the counter. Oh. My.God. The thing was destroyed. The icing was all scrapped off and there were chunks missing. My mother exclaimed ” My God, it looks like the locusts got it! What in the world?” My daughter’s jaw dropped at the sight of it. I assumed my three-year had gotten into it. I asked my 8 year if he knew what happened. He turned around slowly and looked at the cake, not in my eyes, and said in a very quiet voice ” No, I don’t know what happened.” I looked at him and the kid had the nerve to stand there in front of me with blue icing ALL OVER his face! My mother had to cover her mouth and go in the other room to keep from laughing. My daughter busted out laughing right then and there and said ” Oh, really Coop?” He looked at her then back at me. I said ” Are you sure you have no idea what happened to the cake?” He shook his head and his eyes started filling up with tears. I stared him down and said ” Son, you have icing all over your face.” He started bawling and apologizing and he was sent to his room. As I was tidying up the kitchen,I found blue icing smeared all over the cups, plates and silverware he was supposed to be putting away.

Just last week, Coop went over to his friend’s house. When he came home later, I could tell something was bothering him and I asked if he wanted to talk but he said he was fine. We had 3 practices that night, so in the rush of everything I kind of forgot about it. When he came home from his practice that night, he still seemed worried about something. He was following me around like he wanted to talk but wouldn’t spill the beans. I figured he would open up when he was ready.

He went to bed and got up the next day and still seemed out of sorts but we don’t have time in the mornings before school for heart to heart talks, so I sent him off on the bus. He came home that afternoon and was very quiet and contemplative. I knew from experience he was about to break so I waited. I was sitting outside reading the mail when he came up and sat next to me. I asked him if everything was okay. His little lip began trembling and he looked at me with his big blue eyes and said, ” Jake and I looked at an inappropriate magazine at his house yesterday.” That was not what I was expecting at all. Mainly, because Jake and his family are Mormon and they don’t even have “inappropriate” drinks at their house. I am way more inappropriate on a daily basis than Jake’s entire family. I said ” Okay. Where did you find this magazine? What was the name of it?” He wiped away his tears, ” We were playing hide and seek and we hid in Jenny’s room.” Now I was really confused. Jenny is Jake’s older sister and our babysitter. She is so mature, sweet and responsible. I was intrigued and I asked him to go on. ” She had stacks of them in her room and the name of the magazine was…….. Seventeen. There were girls in bikinis.” He put his head on his knees. I had to take deep breaths to keep from laughing. This poor child. He was probably thinking about this all night and day. I hugged him and explained that Seventeen is a fashion magazine for girls. That it’s not “inappropriate” but they shouldn’t have been in Jenny’s room looking at Jenny’s things. It was very hard to keep a straight face.

I know the decision to tell the truth will not always be easy for my kids. I know they are human and they will be confronted many times with taking the easy way out or telling the truth when it’s difficult to do so. For now, I will just enjoy their innocence and hope that they keep being as honest as possible.

I love my husband. He is my best friend and the first person I want to talk to in the morning and the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. He is a wonderful husband and a fantastic father. He was made for me. All that being said, we have known each other since we were 14 years old and we have been married for 12 years, and sometimes, the man can irritate the hell out of me. He does things that make me want to pull my hair out. I know for a fact that I annoy the ding dang out of him, but he doesn’t have a blog to write all those annoying habits down. I do……..so there.

When we were young, we would have these huge, dramatic fights about dumb things. We would break up and get back together 3 times a week. It was ridiculous. Now, we rarely fight. We just bitch at each other sometimes. I can’t speak to what I do that irritates him, but I can sure speak to what he does that irritates the flip out of me. Here we go….

He is a freak about doors being shut. I swear, he will start yelling ” Shut the door!” before someone is even through the damn thing. “You’re letting all the AC out” or “you’re letting all the heat out!” Drives me and the kids batty!

He can’t stand to let me drive anywhere while he’s in the car. He makes a comment about everything I do when I am driving. “You know, you can pass this guy? Why are you staying in this lane? Do you always go this slow? Why do you go this way?” Seriously???????

He can’t just eat a bowl of ice cream. He has to scrape the bowl and get EVERY. LAST. BIT of ice cream out. That man leaves nothing behind in the bowl. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

When I can’t think of something to make for dinner and I ask him for an idea he says, “How about spaghetti?” Every time. Every single time…….I hate spaghetti.

Before he gets into bed at night, he takes off his clothes and leaves them on the floor by his side of the bed. I wouldn’t care if he put them in the hamper in the morning, but does he? Nope. Never.

Once, when our second child was about a month old and we were tired, cranky and overwhelmed, we got into an argument about sharing responsibilities and he said ” Well, you get to relax and clean the kitchen every night.” Ummm, what? I still get annoyed about that little comment.

He knows that I have to make all the beds and have the kitchen clean before I can leave the house, but he is ticked at me every Sunday before church when I do these things. It’s been 12 years, buddy. It ain’t gonna change.

He wants me to go to bed at the same time as him every night. He won’t say that though. He will ask ” So are you going to watch this whole thing? What time are you planning on going to bed? You know we have to get up early?” Then he will pout. Drives me insane.

He is a very helpful father. He is not one of those dads who doesn’t get up with the kids, make dinner, etc. BUT he pisses me off about the wash. He will casually ask ” Do I have any clean underwear? Shorts? ” I get bitchy every time he asks this, yet he still does.

Ironing. When asks me if I have ironed for him it creates a white-hot rage within me. I will go to extreme lengths not to iron my own clothes but he wants me to iron his?????? When he comes home and I have had a bad day and I’m talking to him about it, I am still surprised that he has the cojones to ask ” Did you get a chance to iron?” Oh, no he didn’t?!?!? Yep, he did.

My husband is very handy. Really, he can fix anything or build anything. That is great most of the time, but it’s so annoying when I show him something that I want to do around the house and he says ” Oh, I can do that.” I know he CAN but it takes him MONTHS to get around to doing it. Sometimes, I would just rather pay someone.

He is the king of deals. Really, he always finds a way to save money or get a deal on something. That is great, but he always expects me to bargain like he does. I don’t have that kind of personality. He doesn’t give a flip about offending anyone with a lowball offer….doesn’t bother him one ding dang bit. It bothers me and he just doesn’t understand why.

He doesn’t understand the need to buy clothes and shoes. When I buy things he will say ” Don’t you already have a blue shirt?” As if I should only have ONE blue shirt. ” Don’t you have a pair of jeans? Do you really need more?” ….sigh.

He rarely gets mad or offended. Now, this is a good and bad thing. Sometimes when somebody has pissed me off and I tell him about it, I want him to be pissed too. No, he’s always so damn rational. He always sees both sides. How annoying. I call my sister about things that really piss me off…….she’ll bitch with me.

He constantly moves his big toes. Honestly, he is ALWAYS moving them. Why? That’s just weird.

Finally, the most annoying thing about my husband is that I can never stay mad or annoyed with him. He always makes me laugh or smile when I don’t want to. He brings out the best in me and always shows me the positive side of things. Sometimes, I just want to be a miserable bitch. Is that too much to ask?

Expect the unexpected. I think that phrase pretty much sums up motherhood for me. It’s a roller coaster ride with twists and turns that you don’t see coming. Each day brings new joys, new heartaches and new adventures. The vision I had of motherhood is nothing like the reality. I naively thought because I was around many children all the time before I got married that I had it all figured out. Boy, was I WRONG. I have been pleasantly and at times, not so pleasantly, surprised. I have narrowed my surprises down to a list of ten. If you are so inclined, please share with me your own surprises. I love to hear other mother’s, actually, other parent’s stories. It’s comforting to know I’m not alone on this crazy ride.

The first surprise was the absolute and all-encompassing love I feel for my children. I expected to love them, of course, but I didn’t expect my heart to feel as though it would burst just looking at them. I would stare at them when they were babies and cry because of the strength of my love for each one of them.

The next thing that shocked the hell out of me was that you can love more than one child with that fierce, powerful love. When I was pregnant with my second child, I would call my mom and cry because I was sure I would never love him as much as I love my daughter. My mom assured me that would not be the case, but I don’t think I believed her. Then I took one look at his little scrunched up newborn face and my heart swelled just as it had with my daughter. I was once again, in love. I fell in love two more times after him.

My next surprise was that even though I love and adore all my children, a couple of them have personalities that just mesh better with mine. The same is true for my husband. I felt badly about this for a while, because I wanted everything to be equal all the time, but just as I am a person with a distinct personality, so are they. I am okay with this fact now, but it took me until I had my fourth, to be okay with it.

Parenthood is exhausting, especially in the beginning, and I still can’t believe what I can and could accomplish on 2 hours of sleep. I can make 25 cupcakes for a class, clean the house from top to bottom, help with multiplication homework, plan a party, and so on. It kind of makes me feel like a rock star.

Before I had kids, I heard about the “mama bear” instinct. I didn’t fully understand the truth and strength of this instinct. I have been a ” mama bear” a few times and let me tell you, I think I could rip off someone’s head with my bare hands or lift up a ding dang truck. When I feel like my child is hurt or has been wronged it is a visceral reaction. Look out.

I loved my husband before we had children. I mean really loved him in an eye rolling, gag me kind of way, but watching him become a father has made that love even stronger than ever. Watching him walk around the house singing to a screaming newborn, play countless games of catch or comfort my daughter as she cries because her feelings have been hurt, is a beautiful thing.

The next surprise is actually a big one for me. The fact that I can take care of a child that is puking and not pass out or puke myself, is flipping amazing to me. I had a serious issue with vomit , growing up. I can honestly say, of all the things I worried about when I thought of being a mother, the fact that I would some day have to take care of a barfing kid scared me most. Well, now I have been puked on, caught puke in my hands and even had a kid puke in my mouth. I have conquered my fear.

Before having kids I had a so, so relationship with my body. I was always trying to “improve” it somehow because it wasn’t good enough. When I looked in the mirror, it was the flaws that I saw. Now, after being pregnant four times and breastfeeding four babies, I have accepted my body how it is. I marveled at how huge my belly and breasts got, but not in a negative way like I thought would be the case. I carried four tiny humans in my body and I nourished them with it too. So what if my butt is not as high? So what if my boobs have to be tucked into my bra? So what if my kids say my belly is “squishy” and “comfy”? I truly don’t care anymore. It’s a welcome surprise.

I had a miscarriage 9 years ago and I’m surprised at how much it still hurts to think about. I thought that with time, I would forget that pain of losing “what was to be”, but each year on the day that I lost the baby and the due date of that baby, I am sad.

Finally, I’m surprised at how ding dang hard it is to be a parent. It doesn’t get easier, the difficulty just changes as the children grow. My heart is broken on a daily basis. I’m constantly worried about these four little people I have been blessed with. There are some days I can’t form a complete sentence because I’m so overwhelmed and exhausted. But, I love it. I really ding dang love it.